


A Riot of Something Ablaze

by CounterfeitBravado



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/F, Soulmate AU, colorbond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 03:00:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12572252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CounterfeitBravado/pseuds/CounterfeitBravado
Summary: Maggie first meets Agent Alex Danvers on a day that’s decidedly blue-- unnervingly calm, maddeningly silent, unnoticeably treacherous.Alex Danvers saunters up to her, her eyes steel, her mouth set in a scowl. She’s beautiful, that much is glaringly obvious. She’s got short hair cropped to her chin, falling in a way that frames her face perfectly. Maggie hates to admit the effect the stranger has on her.The agent challenges her authority and Maggie’s met a lot of people in her years that’ve turned her head, but she can’t exactly shake the feeling that something is just so wonderfully… different about Alex Danvers. She swaggers away with a smirk and taunt, knowing it won’t be the last time she and the agent cross paths./ /In which Maggie Sawyer grows up devoid of color and how Alex Danvers gives her that world.





	A Riot of Something Ablaze

**Author's Note:**

> There's no such thing as too many soulmate aus. So here's my take on sanvers and the whole 'sees in black and white until...' trope. Apparently “a riot of something” is defined as a lot of different bright colors together, so that’s pretty cool. Did I finish this instead of studying for my calc midterm? Absolutely. Oh, also, Happy Halloween! 
> 
> Hope you guys like it :)

 

**1998**

 

Maggie’s babysitter is considered somewhat special in her town.

 

In a small area with an even smaller populous, people often settled without their soulmates-- some even claiming the entire institution a myth.

 

It’s this that makes Maggie’s babysitter special. Because in that small area with an even smaller populous with people giving up all hopes of finding their soulmate or achieving a bond-- Maggie’s babysitter can see _color_.

 

But of course, _being_ that it’s a small area with an even smaller populous-- those who are special are shunned, and Maggie’s babysitter is no exception to this widely followed belief.

 

Ellie Brown is a high school junior with straight A’s and rumors following her every move. It’s pretty much common knowledge that one, the girl can see color and two, even though she can, her soulmate is gone. It’s the second part that everyone has their own ideas about.

 

Some say her soulmate was Joe Moore, who had driven his car off Royal Arch Bridge in the final semester of his senior year. Fewer say her soulmate is Mason Anderson, the son of the town clerk. Even less say her soulmate was Sophia Warner, who had come to town for a summer, scorched her name in the memory of the people, then promptly left come fall.

 

But then again, Joe Moore was hardly ever seen around Ellie, Mason Anderson has yet to see color for himself, and Sophia Warner is… well, a _girl_. The idea of _that_ is basically forbidden.

 

So Ellie Brown remains an interesting mystery.

 

It’s the summer before her fifth grade that Maggie’s parents hire the teenager to babysit Maggie. Her parents are going off to aid Maggie’s sick grandmother in Florida and they need someone to watch their kids for two days before their aunt is able to come down from Beatrice to look after them for the rest of the summer.

 

It’s during these two days that Ellie impresses the Sawyers, who promptly hire the teenager for the rest of the school year in response.

 

It’s Ellie that first teaches Maggie about color.

 

Some offhand comment of, “Whoa kid, look at the sky today.”

 

And Maggie’s world was thrust into that of spectrums and light and shades.

 

Ellie would fill her head with the best descriptions she could come up with, though describing color isn’t a task so easily accomplished. However, the girl had a… _unique_ way of seeing color. Being that the junior was left soulmate-less and could still see color meant that her bond with her soulmate was prominent enough for the ability to last-- but it also meant that she was left with the heartbreak of _knowing_ her soulmate yet never getting to be with them.

 

Ellie has bad memories with color or rather, good memories stained with bad events, and she can’t help but be a bit bitter about their descriptions.

 

Still, she shares what she can with Maggie, drawn to the younger girl’s enthusiasm and working to change to be able to show her the wonders of the unseen world.

 

And so Maggie learns about _red_ \-- fiery, hot, passionate, destructive, the feeling of anger, _blue_ \-- the color of celestial beings, unnerving calm, maddening silence, _green_ \-- solid, subtle, the want of escape, and just about every color Ellie can describe.

 

Maggie is enthralled by the older girl’s knowledge and even more so about this whole _color_ thing-- an entire world of vivid brightness just out of reach and the person that can help her see it all. Even on the days Ellie isn’t asked to babysit, Maggie goes out, hops onto her bike, and pedals her way to the junior’s house.

 

The summer of her upcoming seventh grade is the same as the leave of Ellie Brown.

 

It affects Maggie more than she thought it would-- but Ellie was the only who would sit with her during lunch in their joint K-12 school, the only one who would help Maggie with her science homework, and the only one who would ruffle her hair and give her a laugh when she made references to comics.

 

On the day of her leave, Ellie drives up to the front of the Sawyer household and honks twice to signal her arrival.

 

Maggie rushes out to meet her, seeing the older girl leaning on the side of her car-- one filled with boxes and various knick-knacks. Maggie collides into the girl with a bone-crushing hug and Ellie laughs, returning the squeeze.

 

“Here,” it’s only then that Maggie realizes Ellie has something in her hand. It’s a small book-- a journal-- bound in soft leather, its pages slightly waterlogged along the edges, showing signs of age. Ellie hands the book to Maggie.

 

The younger girl flips through it experimentally. On every page is a different shade of color-- presenting itself in Maggie’s eyes as different concentrations of black, white, and grey-- painted vertically down the edges of each sheet (explaining the waterlogged condition), the rest of the page filled with familiar scribbles describing each color.

 

Maggie looks up from the book with wide-eyes.

 

“Is this--?”

 

“That’s the one I kept throughout high school. It’s got just about every fuckin’ color I could identify, the first time I ever saw the color, what I felt about it then and how I feel it’s better described now. You should… look through it. All of it. I had that ever since ‘97.”

 

Maggie recognizes the year, it’s the same as the rumors say Ellie met her soulmate and first started seeing color.

 

The high school graduate gives her a small, nostalgic smile, “I-I don’t need it anymore.”

 

Ellie parts with a final hug, ruffling Maggie’s thick locks and giving the younger girl a pat on the back.

 

“Just… remember,” she furrows her eyebrows, twisting her mouth slightly in an attempt to figure out how to say her words. “You don’t need your soulmate to be happy, to feel… _fuck_ , uh… _complete_. We’re not just born into the world missing our other halves-- it’s not like-- that’s just not how it works. You're going to love whoever you colorbond with and they're going to love you right back because they're perfect for you. It's… it's not about being complete and sated or all that crap.”

 

Ellie gives the young girl a long stare, one devoid of malice and filled with something that looks like relatability.

 

“It's about being… so _utterly_ , _comfortably_ in _love_. And having someone to share that with. But even then, kid, you're surrounded with love everywhere if you look hard enough. Your soulmate will make your entire existence better, but you don't need them to be your best.”

 

The older girl taps on the hood of her car twice, “Does… does that make sense?”

 

The older girl moves to get into her car.

 

“See you on the flip side, kid.”

 

Ellie Brown leaves with a wave and a wink, and Maggie watches her car until it disappears around a corner.

 

* * *

 

**2002**

 

Maggie is thirteen when she meets Elisa Wilkey.

 

The girl is new in town, trying to make a name for herself in high school, and Maggie thinks the girl makes a mistake when she starts hanging out with Maggie because that’s a surefire way to accomplish the opposite.  

 

She figures Elisa must be _blue_.

 

(T _he color of celestial beings, unnerving calm, maddening silence._

 

Celestial beings-- individuals who hold the ability to be remarkably amazing or remarkably destructive or equal in both clauses.)

 

Because Elisa’s calm but has this underlying sense of danger with her at all times-- one that Maggie can’t help but be drawn to.

 

Elisa claims she can see color but Maggie takes her word with a grain of salt because the girl describes purple as _tense_ and _complicated_ while Ellie’s book claims it to be _mysterious_ , _the equilibrium combining blue and red in a melodious harmony_.

 

She adds Elisa’s claims on colors to Ellie’s book anyway, scribbling them down on the spaces in the edges, always finishing the thoughts with a small disclaimer about the validity of the statement.

 

Still, she’s the only other person in town who cares about color the way Maggie does and she finds herself eventually believing the girl.

 

She’s known Elisa for maybe a year-- memories of climbing over fences to sneak into the neighbor’s pool at night, stealing their parents’ car to take a joyride over the town line, spending hours drinking their parent’s liquor in the safety of the darkness-- when she decides to share her feelings about Elisa _to_ Elisa.

 

Maggie is thirteen when she meets Elisa Wilkey and she’s fourteen when her dad kicks her out of the house.

 

The car ride over to her aunt’s is silent and Maggie wants to reach out to move the trajectory of the air conditioning because it’s winter, and she’s only got on her school uniform that does nothing in the cold, and it’s blowing right in her eyes, and giving her a bit of a headache, but she finds herself unable to move in fear.

 

There’s a suitcase in the backseat that’s cold and encased in metal, and Maggie knows that it’s large enough to fit her clothes but not large enough to hold a space for Mr. Wiggles-- the stuffed caterpillar her mother had given her for her eighth birthday. Maggie wonders where he is right now.

 

She finds her voice in her fear and asks a quiet, “Papi, what did I do?”

 

He doesn’t take his eyes away from the road for more than a second, but Maggie can see the unrelenting waves of contempt in his eyes as he says, “You shame me.”

 

And Maggie doesn’t get it.

 

Because Elisa had made her feel happy and rebellious, and content, but it’s not allowed-- _she’s_ not allowed to feel that way and _she doesn’t get it_.

 

Afternoons watching Hitchcock films in Elisa’s dad’s basement, smoking cigarettes that Maggie decides _must_ be red because they’re hot and destructive and all they make her feel now is anger-- at herself, at her parents, at Elisa.

 

The car stops in front of her aunt’s house, and her dad makes quick work of getting Maggie and her stuff out of the car.

 

Oscar Rodas leaves in a fury of silence and hatred, and Maggie watches until his car disappears around a corner.

 

It’s winter and it’s cold. Maggie drags the suitcase up the steps to her aunt’s door and she waits.

 

And she waits.

 

She waits.

 

/ /

 

Ellie goes to visit Blue Springs later that fall during her school’s winter vacation and on her way back to university, she stops in Beatrice.

 

It’s there that Maggie sees the woman again for the first time in years.

 

She’s hardly recognizable and Maggie can’t help but chalk it up to her being so obviously… _happy_. She sees Ellie from the other side of the parking lot-- it’s small enough that Maggie notices the small differences in the older girl’s appearance but large enough that Ellie can’t see Maggie from where the younger girl watches from inside her aunt’s car. Maggie calculates it in her head, the other woman’s gotta be around twenty-one now, maybe even done with her undergrad studies.

 

Maggie plays with the latch of the car’s glove compartment, clicking it open and closed as she stares at the person she looked up to as a kid.

 

Her hair’s longer and she’s wearing a different pair of glasses. She’s carrying a load of grocery bags from the supermarket she just came from and there’s another woman beside her-- Maggie can’t help but notice that the other girl looks a lot like Sophia Warner from all those years ago-- who she hasn’t stopped smiling at.

 

Maggie can’t decide if she wants to go out and greet the woman or not, so she stays in the car, waiting for her aunt to return with the groceries, and Ellie drives away from her once again.

 

* * *

 

**2003**

 

Her aunt moves them to California halfway through Maggie’s sophomore year.

 

It’s different on the west coast, not just because of the drastic change in weather or the air always smelling of salt water-- but the people themselves aren’t the same.

 

Her aunt tells her to keep her head up, that there’s nothing wrong with her and it isn’t until their move when Maggie believes that.

 

Maggie meets Aaron Katchen in her new school, and she makes a stupid comment about the rerun of Buffy they’re watching, and she’s afraid she’s just outed herself-- her thoughts spiraling, wondering if she’d have to relearn how to fight to keep her head above the water at school, but he surprises her when he _laughs_ at what she’s just said. Maggie doesn’t know if she jumped because she’s surprised or because she’s relieved-- she chalks it up to a mixture between both.

 

Her new school has a GSA and Maggie doesn’t know if she’s really at that level of being comfortable with herself just yet, but she forces herself to join to learn how to be.

 

The president is a tall, lanky kid with an amazingly gay haircut and they notice, because of course, they do when the new girl joins in.

 

They’re comfortable around each other-- the people in the club-- and Maggie almost feels like she’s intruding, but they go around and they share their pronouns and their hopes for the future and some of them share what it’s like to see color, and they do all that while including Maggie into their inner circle.

 

One of the girls there, Nicola Napoli, is color bonded with the student-body president, Jess Lincoln-- and it’s really only then that Maggie starts seeing herself differently.

 

* * *

 

**2006**

 

It’s in college that Maggie’s love of color revives because it’s in college that Maggie’s surrounded by people who can see color.

 

She’s constantly around talk of, “Hey pass me that pen-- oh, no, the blue one.”, “Dude, look how red her lipstick is.” and “Do you ever realize purple’s just the lovechild of blue and red?”.

 

And Maggie can’t quite see color yet, but she’s thrilled to be around this kind of environment.

 

She’s thrust back into her childhood, the part where she came home every day in the backseat of Ellie’s car and ate ice-cream that her mom made for dessert and her father read her in on the tamer cases he brought home.

 

She adds notes and notes, paragraphs and paragraphs of edits to Ellie’s book-- brown, the color of dead fauna and hot chocolate, yellow, the color of Post-It notes and old books, orange, the color of leaves in the fall and the sky during the sunset-- and she finds herself learning more things than she came for, not minding one bit.

 

* * *

 

**2016**

 

Maggie first meets Agent Alex Danvers on a day that’s decidedly _blue_ \-- unnervingly calm, maddeningly silent, unnoticeably treacherous. Maggie has just come up to find a dead end to her only good lead and an alien has decided to attack the president on the tarmac.

 

Alex Danvers saunters up to her, her eyes steel, her mouth set in a scowl. She’s beautiful, that much is glaringly obvious. She’s got short hair cropped to her chin, falling in a way that frames her face perfectly. Maggie hates to admit the effect the stranger has on her.

 

The agent challenges her authority and Maggie’s met a lot of people in her years that’ve turned her head, but she can’t exactly shake the feeling that something is just so wonderfully… _different_ about Alex Danvers. She swaggers away with a smirk and taunt, knowing it won’t be the last time she and the agent cross paths.

 

/ /

 

It’s Alex that saves her from an alien, Alex that helps her go to an undercover alien fighting ring with a hand in hers, one that’s so, so soft and warm, and it’s only a few weeks in the taller woman’s company that Maggie realizes she’s in trouble.

 

Maggie first _notices_ Agent Alex Danvers on a day that’s decidedly _pink_ \-- overwrought with unexpected anxiety, the promise of new things, the re-emergence of old habits.

 

 _Pink_ because Alex had come over to the precinct to surprise Maggie with lunch and halfway through eating her salad, Maggie notices a flash of… something in Alex’s hair.

 

 _Pink_ because the flash of something is definitely not grey, white, black, or anything in between.

 

 _Pink_ because she’s seeing color for the first time in her life and she’s one hundred percent certain it’s got all to do with the woman sitting across from her-- the woman who’s buddy-buddy with _Supergirl_ in a way that cannot be a strictly working relation.

 

Maggie promptly chokes on a crouton.

 

“You good there, Sawyer?” Alex raises a confused eyebrow, hitting Maggie lightly in the back as she coughs.

 

Maggie clears her throat and nods a few times, unable to keep her eyes away from the shade of Alex’s hair.

 

“Yeah,” her voice is raspy. “I’m, yeah, I’m okay.”

 

Alex, because Maggie’s not trying all too hard to hide it, notices the detective starring unblinkingly at her and gets a hesitant look on her face, “What?”

 

“N-nothing.”

 

Maggie reaches for a sip of the fountain drink Alex brought her and nearly chokes all over again when she sees the straw is the same color, only brighter.

 

Not knowing what to do with herself, she excuses herself from her own desk, mounts her motorcycle, and drives and drives and drives.

 

/ /

 

Supergirl goes off to another planet all on her own and she’s welcomed back to a relieved Alex Danvers.

 

The two are exchanging quiet words and even from where Maggie’s standing behind the police line, she can see the worry in Alex’s eyes-- the pure, unadulterated love she feels for the woman in front of her.

 

Maggie taps at the holster of her gun, hearing the material scratch under her nails. Ducking under the tape, she frowns and makes her way home.

 

/ /

 

That night, Maggie’s pulling her apartment apart to find the leather-bound journal given to her all those years ago.

 

She’s flipping through its pages, trying to find the color that pops out when there’s a knock on her door.

 

It’s Alex.

 

She’s pushing past Maggie into the detective’s kitchen with a case of beer when she stops and stares straight at the open book of colors.

 

Alex blinks. Once. Twice.

 

Maggie moves to go hide the book but Alex’s hand is on her arm, stopping her with a small frown on her face.

 

“You- you can see color?”

 

Maggie clears her throat and stays silent. Alex is still looking at the book.

 

“So you believe in that stuff then? You believe in soulmates?”

 

Maggie, because she’s feeling a bit self-destructive and can’t really think straight with Alex’s hand burning her through her sleeve, gives the agent a small, sad smile.

 

“I’ve actually met mine already.”

 

Alex’s demeanor changes in the split second.

 

“Maggie, that’s great!”

 

“Not too sure it is, Danvers.”

 

“Pft. What’re you talking about?”

 

She thinks, _Because they’re in love with someone else, because that’s someone else is a superhero, because that someone else is a superhero and I’m… I’m just me-- hard-headed, insensitive, obsessed with work, borderline psychopathic_.

 

She shrugs and says, “Just… this feeling I get.”

 

“Well,” Alex raises a bottle of beer. “Her loss.”

 

Alex moves towards the journal on the table and Maggie cringes as she pulls it up to read from it.

 

“ _Red-- fiery, hot, passionate, destructive, the feeling of anger_ ,” Alex looks up from the book with an indescribable twist to her mouth. “ _Yellow-- the first rays of light in the morning, the short sting of touching a hot plate, the buzz of bees, and the stick of honey. The color of Post-its._ Maggie, what is this?”

 

“It was from my friend when I was younger. I was really into colors back then and I just,” she shrugs. “I wanted to _see_ them, but I couldn’t-- so she described it to me.”

 

“ _Green-- solid, subtle, the want of escape, the color of leaves in the time just after spring, as warm as yellow with all the calmness of blue_.”

 

“She put it all in a book for me when she left.”

 

“ _Indigo-- the person you can’t live without, Sirius Black and Lily Evans to James Potter, devotion, loyalty, the mystery of purple and the serenity of blue_.”

 

“I haven’t touched it since college, actually.”

 

“How do you… _describe_ color?”

 

“My friend used her own feelings towards them-- the things they reminded her of, objects that were the same color-- things like that.”

 

Alex furrows her eyebrows and takes a swig of beer-- the scientist who solves multivariable calculus equations in her head, the astronomer who knows the layout of the stars like the back of her hand, the agent who can kill a man six different ways with a finger--  confused at the mere thought of seeing color.

 

“Explain it to me?”

 

Alex looks up at her with wide, warm eyes, asking with a soft, genuinely curious voice. Maggie has to take a moment to ground herself, trying to gulp down the increasing beats of her heart. She can’t help but think she’d do anything if Alex were looking at her like that.

 

/ /

 

Maggie’s invited to one of Kara’s game nights.

 

Halfway through Monopoly, as Winn rolls the die and lands right in Broadway, paying the rest of his money to a grinning Alex, Maggie sees a flash of blue.

 

It’s soft, much softer than the image in Ellie’s journal-- and it’s right there on the decal of Alex’s band t-shirt.

 

( _Blue-- the color of celestial beings, unnerving calm, maddening silence_.

 

 _Celestial beings, individuals who hold the ability to be remarkably amazing or remarkably destructive or equal in both clauses._ )

 

Maggie makes a mental note to add _the color of the ocean reflected on the sky, the spark of flint against steel, the color of Alex Danvers’ Barenaked Ladies T-shirt._

 

Someone makes a joke about Supergirl that has Maggie filled with guilt. She refuses to meet Alex’s eyes for the rest of the night.

 

/ /

 

Alex beats Maggie at pool a total of six times before she throws down her cue stick and accepts defeat.

 

“What is that then? The past three rounds on me?”

 

“Try five, Sawyer.”

 

“Pool shark.”

 

Alex just grins as if it were a compliment.

 

“Well, it’s not as hard when you’re just so…” Alex lowers her voice and learns in as if sharing a secret. “Just so, fucking bad.”

 

The taller woman pushes back with a shit-eating grin and Maggie laughs sarcastically.

 

“Funny, Danvers. But so grossly exaggerated-- one more game. All or nothing.”

 

“Ah yes, because the increased alcohol content in your body will magically help you do better.”

 

“Well there’s no possible way I can get any worse, is there?” Maggie winks as she racks the balls up.

 

“Just trying to get out of the bill, Sawyer?”

 

“Who said anything about a bill, Danvers?” She teases right back.

 

“Aw, come on now.” Alex steps in her space, grinning prominently, eyes dancing. Maggie almost can’t find her breath. “Don’t get _short_ with me.”

 

She pushes Alex back with a light shove and an exaggerated scoff.

 

“Three inches, Danvers. Three inches.”

 

/ /

 

The first time Maggie sees Alex blackout drunk is right after a particularly grueling case involving the abduction of alien children.

 

The joint force of the DEO and the NCPD had arrived late on the scene and the children were carted away in an invisible ship off to who-knows-where.

 

Maggie, herself, had been making her way to the bottom of a bottle of scotch, already quite a way in, when a thud echoes from her door.

 

Fumbling for her gun, she ambles over to the door, relaxing when she sees Alex slumped against it through the peephole.

 

The agent raises her fist, the action slow and uncoordinated, and brings it down to thud on the wood. Maggie pulls it open, catching Alex when the woman stumbles forward with a small noise of surprise.

 

She’s warm, the heat of her body emanating through her layers of clothing, and she doesn’t move to pick herself up, instead, she places all her weight on Maggie-- which would be fine if her head wasn’t burrowed in the Maggie’s neck, her lips weren’t slightly open, and her warm breath wasn’t fanning across Maggie’s skin.

 

Maggie shivers as she straightens the woman up, simultaneously wanting to pull the woman closer and retreat maybe fifteen feet away. She kicks the door closed before she half-drags Alex to her couch, awkwardly maneuvering the agent’s arms to wrap around her neck (which, by the way, big fucking mistake) for better leverage.

 

Maggie collapses on the couch ungracefully, her own state nearing intoxication, and pulls Alex down next to her, trying to get the taller woman to sit up straight on her own. She just about freezes when Alex starts mumbling something and presses herself closer, wrapping her arms around Maggie tighter as her lips move against Maggie’s neck.

 

 _It’s not like that, it’s not like that, it’s not like that_ , Maggie repeats over and over in her head.

 

She clears her throat and forces her voice to come out evenly, “Alex, you uh, you gotta let go.”

 

Maggie’s voice only breaks once and she inwardly congratulates herself. The detective begins pulling at Alex’s arms in an attempt to free herself from the warm embrace. Alex only holds on tighter.

 

It’s only when the first few drops fall that Maggie realizes the agent is crying.

 

“One of them was named Amelia. I worked with her mother to try to find her, I promised her I would,” the words are said in a blubber through violent breaths and slight shakes.

 

Maggie doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what words to say to fix it and she wants to-- to fix it, that is-- so, so badly.

 

Because Alex is shaking and Alex is sobbing and Alex is clinging onto her and Maggie can’t find a way to help. Her tongue is heavy and her eyes have begun unfocusing, but Alex needs her so she wraps her arms around the woman and pulls her in tight, feeling the weight of the failed operation now more than ever.

 

And in apartment 314 in the middle of winter in National City, Maggie lets herself cry into rich red hair, and shaking breaths, and a tight grip, and Alex, Alex, _Alex_.

 

/ /

 

Maggie doesn’t know when she’s become the person to go to brunch regularly, but every Friday, she’s getting up earlier than she needs to join Alex for coffee and pancakes.

 

She’s pretty sure she started the habit, a boast about making the best pancakes in National City challenged and Alex is taking her to new breakfast places every week.

 

Maggie and Alex are walking on the Boardwalk next to the waterfront, hands warm around the coffee cups providing them heat, bundled in winter clothes.

 

“Did you know there’s no actual thing as ‘cold’? Like, scientists have tried and tried over the years to create absolute zero and just… nothing. There is no such thing as ‘cold’, just the absence of heat, yet it’s become a term that’s so widely used. Crazy huh?”

 

“Sure, Danvers.” She says it with a smile playing on her face.

 

“I suppose it’s because it’s easier, right? To just like, say ‘I’m cold,’ instead of going all ‘I’m feeling the increased absence of heat,’or just like, ‘I’m _less_ hot,’” Alex lets out a little quiet laugh, grinning at the ground.

 

Maggie rolls her eyes and sips her coffee with an affectionate, “Nerd.”

 

A flash of color-- of yellow-- and she’s blinded at the way it halos Alex’s face.

 

/ /

 

“Why did you come to me that night after the case?”

 

She doesn’t have to say anything more for Alex to understand which night she’s referring to. Alex looks up from the paperwork the two are stuck doing and just looks at Maggie like she’s completely lost the plot. She’s got this look on her face, one Maggie just cannot describe, and she’s playing with her pen, twisting it open and closed.

 

The agent shrugs and as if it takes her no effort to say at all, admits, “I trust you.”

 

/ /

 

The DEO blocks the NCPD from attending in a joint bust for a case they’ve been pouring over for the past few months and Maggie is livid.

 

She goes anyway, just to prove a point-- one that she almost immediately forgets when she steps out onto the field.

 

Maggie is shot on the shoulder with a laser from a heavy-set gun a Cadmus operative brandishes.

 

She can see the flashing of blue and red from the police cars through the window, civilians no doubt having called the NCPD, the flash of blue and red from the costume of the superhero leaning over her.

 

She grits her teeth through the overwhelming amount of pain, forcing herself to take labored breaths to keep oxygen circulating throughout her body.

 

She closes her eyes to National City’s hero and opens them again days later to see the girl hovering over her.

 

Maggie flinches back, immediately regretting it when her body aches from the action.

 

She’s been there enough times to realize she’s in the DEO’s medical bay. What’s different is the superhero standing guard over her.

 

Her thoughts go to the last thing she remembers-- the case and specifically, the field that turned more bloody than was expected.

 

The monitor next to her quickens in response to her heart.

 

“Where’s Alex?” Her voice is hoarse and makes her wonder how long she’s been in the place.

 

“Alex is fine,” the superhero shrugs indifferently and it’s enough to make Maggie relax once again. “She’s pretty mad at _you_ , but she’s fine in general.”

 

Maggie cringes at the thought of facing the agent but steels her voice.

 

“I couldn’t let her go in there alone.”

 

“She had her team with her, had _me_ with her. Nothing was going to happen.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

This is dangerous, going head to head with National City’s literal finest, but Maggie can’t stop her tongue. She’s _jealous_ , though she hates admitting it-- even to herself. Maggie wants Alex happy and if being with Supergirl would get her there, then fine. Maggie could live with that, she would have to. But it doesn’t mean she has to get along with the hero herself.

 

She braces herself for what’s next and it factors in to why she’s so completely surprised when Supergirl _smiles_.

 

“I get your need to want to make sure she’s okay, detective. You… you care a lot about her, don’t you?”

 

It’s inquisitive, not hostile in any way. Maggie finds herself nodding in confirmation, “I… I won’t get in the way though.”

 

Supergirl furrows her eyebrows, “Of…?”

 

“You and Alex. You two are happy together. I can’t be the one taking that away from her.” Her voice has quieted to barely a whisper.

 

“Me and Al…” Supergirl looks completely, utterly lost. Then, like a switch, her eyes widen, her mouth drops to a look of disgust, and she cringes. “Oh Rao, _no_.”

 

Now Maggie’s the one who’s completely and utterly lost.

 

Supergirl laughs from where she’s standing at the foot of Maggie’s bed.

 

“Alex is, _gosh_ no.”

 

The heroine shakes her head, sobering up enough to ask Maggie, “You can see color, can’t you?”

 

Maggie blinks in surprise, fully aware of where Supergirl is going with this.

 

“I saw the way you looked at my cape one day after your first case with Alex. Like it was something so foreign. And then again at Alex’s shirt on game night.”

 

Maggie is so distracted by the first question-- by the fact that Supergirl has been watching her with Alex close enough to know she can see color, to know that _Alex_ is the reason she sees color, before she really catches onto the second part.

 

_Game night._

 

“That was the night Alex first saw color-- blue. I’d always tried to describe it to her when we were younger but I don’t think I did it any good. She likes the way you describe them-- colors that is. Won’t stop gushing about it, really.”

 

_Game. Night._

 

It takes Maggie an embarrassingly long to time to see Kara Danvers standing in front of her.

 

 _Sisters_. Supergirl is Alex’s _sister_.

 

Kara smiles when a look of realization passes over the detective’s face and she laughs as Maggie starts sputtering.

 

“Alex wanted to stay in the room with you but I forced her out when I sensed you were coming-to. The stitches should dissolve soon enough and there are painkillers right by you for the pain.” Kara turns to head out the door but pulls herself back. “And uh, Alex is in her office.”

 

Kara leaves a stunned Maggie Sawyer in the medical bay of the DEO with a wink.

 

/ /

 

Despite the very clear go-ahead from Kara, Maggie can’t find the courage to approach the agent.

 

Instead, she changes out of her hospital gowns, calls a cab home, and sifts through Ellie’s journal.

 

She wasn’t kidding when she said she hadn’t opened it since college. The waterlogged pages are all but brittle now, curving at the edges from old age, smelling slightly like a storage unit.

 

Maggie sifts through the journal, not knowing exactly what she’s looking for when she finds exactly what she needs.

 

Maybe it’s how damaged the book was in the first place, maybe it’s because she never really studies it too hard anymore, but she notices one of the pages had been folded over another, revealing a completely new side Maggie has never seen before when lifted-- the first page, the one about purple.

 

On the front side, the one Maggie had read in middle school, poured over in high school, and added to in college, was the definition she’s used to.

 

There’s a strip of what Maggie assumes to be purple paint along the outer edge, a poem about the color written in Ellie’s scratchy handwriting, and under it, Maggie’s own notes. Then, a simple definition by Ellie herself.

 

 _Purple-- mysterious_ , _the equilibrium combining blue and red in a melodious harmony_.

 

Maggie carefully lifts the page aside, the sheet turning over to reveal a two-sheet spread of a drawing and a group of journal entries.

 

_**June 30, 1997** _

 

_There was a party at Joey Winston’s house today and I, of course, went. I’ve always liked that Joey kid-- with his two first names as his full name and his odd hair color. Remind me to thank him in the future for something other than his name and his hair because I met her tonight-- Sophia Warner._

 

_And shit._

 

_Holy fucking shit._

 

The entry ended there but the writing on the page didn’t.

 

_**July 13, 1997** _

 

_I saw a color today, I think it was purple. At least, that’s what the book in the library, that one about the Color Spectrum, calls it._

 

_It was in Sophie’s skirt. She looked beautiful today-- running through the rain, her hair plastered to her face, jumping in puddles with a splash of purple. The mud got all over us and it darkened areas of her clothing. Mud must be brown then. Or some other darker color._

 

_Oh. Mrs. Bear is purple, too, to my surprise. All those years seeing the stuffed thing as a shade and then this, well… it’s odd._

 

_It’s amazing._

 

The journal entries are cut out and pasted onto the page, most likely taken from another book. The entries are clearly meticulously chosen and Maggie wonders if Ellie meant them for _her_. There’s a last one, a dated a few months later.

 

_**September 9, 1997** _

 

_Sophie’s leaving tomorrow and it’s getting increasingly hard to remember why I shouldn’t kiss her._

 

_Fuck it, I don’t want to remember._

 

_Life’s short, and we should kiss the girls we want to kiss._

 

 _Wish me luck._  

 

That last one is written in blue ink, something Maggie recognizes now.

 

It’s exactly what Maggie needs to hear and before she knows it, she’s out of her apartment just as quickly as she stayed and she’s picking up a pizza and a case of beer and knocking on Alex’s door before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

 

She’s known Alex for maybe a year-- memories of climbing over fences to sneak into abandoned warehouses their intel led them to, stealing DEO-issued vehicles to take joyrides over the city line, spending hours drinking liquor and playing pool in the safety of one another-- and she’s scared, so unbelievably afraid of what Alex might say, how Alex might react, because she can’t possibly imagine her life without Alex, nor would she want to.

 

But Alex had said she trusts Maggie and now it’s time for Maggie to have a little faith of her own.

 

Alex lets her in, tells her to ignore the pajamas, and goes on a rant about the case and Maggie’s involvement. Maggie nods along like she understands, but she truly hasn’t been able to look at anything but the shade of Alex’s eyes since she’s walked in-- brown, she finds out later, the softest, warmest color that Maggie can’t help but stare into.

 

Alex stops when she sees Maggie staring, moves behind her counter to get a bottle opener, and now Maggie’s the one ranting. She calls herself stupid and brings up the mission, her injury, and _I almost died,_ and Alex gives her an incredulous look and, “ _Yeah, no, I would not have let that happen_.”

 

But Maggie cuts her off because, _We should kiss the girls that we want to kiss, and I really just… I want to kiss you._  

 

Alex is frozen, brown eyes wide and Maggie just can’t fucking place how she ever went this long doing nothing because Alex is looking at her with a look of uncertainty, and Maggie just, _Just…_

 

She surges forward, and Alex’s lips are on hers and _sparks_.

 

She can feel the softness of Alex’s skin against her fingertips and she can’t get enough-- wants to pull her in closer, closer, _more_.

 

 _Sparks_.

 

It’s _red_ \-- it’s fire and warmth and heat and destruction in the best way possible because Maggie’s forgotten how to breathe but she doesn’t think she minds if she ever does again if she’s kissing Alex like this and it’s passionate, so, so passionate.

 

 _Sparks_.

 

Vivid, wonderful color painting themselves in her very being, unraveling with a bang at the taste of liquor on Alex’s lips and the silk of her hair and Maggie wants to pull away to finally be able to see it all, see color, for herself, but _god_ why, _why would she want to_ pull away from this, pull away when Alex is kissing her like it’s their last seconds on earth.

 

Alex draws back and she lets out this little breath and she blinks owlishly, a look of wonder clear on her face as she takes in the space around her. It’s a riot of something ablaze-- colors vibrant and vivid and vehement-- dancing around, colliding, merging into the scene in front of them.

 

“Do you see it too?” She speaks in a soft whisper, eyes skating over the assault of colors.

 

Maggie nods, though she hasn’t once looked away from Alex.

 

The taller woman averts her gaze back to down to Maggie, a small stretching onto her features.

 

“So you’re saying you like me? That’s- that’s what I’m getting.”

 

And Maggie grins, and she would notice the dark blue of her shirt, the beige of her walls, the orange of her candles, but she’s too preoccupied with the blush that tinges Alex’s cheeks and can’t look away from the depth of her eyes.

 

Instead, she looks right at them and laughs and laughs and, “Of course. You’re not gonna go crazy on me, are you?”

 

The world is much brighter, more _colorful_ , and there are so much more shades of… _everything_ than Maggie could’ve imagined. She’s seen her life through the filter of the pages of a journal, one that’s filled with description and secret messages, yet she could have never imagined just how vivid Alex makes her world.

 

Alex is surging back forward and Maggie is right there with her, and she doesn’t think she can ever get used to the feeling.

 

She doesn’t really mind if she never does.

 

**Author's Note:**

> And there it is!  
> I tried to write angst. I don't think it worked out so well. Anywho.  
> Would you look at that I figured out how to add that horizontal line thing. About time, too. Also, I ruined the whole thing I was going for with all my fic titles. Oh well. Worth it.  
> Hope you all liked it and thanks for reading :) Come talk to me (especially about that episode, because dude...) in the comments or over at Tumblr @superxbat. 
> 
> Have a great day!


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